The Big, Bad Wolf
by Anna Danielle
Summary: Ventus is your typical office nobody, hating life and everyone around him. Vanitas is the classic office rebel, shirking responsibilities and riding the coattails of his father. A chance encounter gives Ventus an entirely new nemesis and Vanitas a shiny new toy. When these two cross paths, the only certainty is that there will be plenty of conflict, banter, and sexual tension.
1. A Knock On the Door

**Hello, perverts!**

**Juuuust kidding.. kind of.. (:**

**This is my first fic since 2011, so forgive me if I seem a bit rusty. As always, critical feedback is extremely helpful! This isn't too long of a chapter, but I already have the plot of the second spinning around in my head, so it'll only be a matter of time.**

**So, if you could, just drop a little comment and let me know what you think thus far!**

**NOTES: For this, Ventus and Roxas are early twenties (just felt like letting you know ahead of time). Their characters are two that, I've noticed, have very different FanFiction personalities compared to their canon ones. Maybe I'm wrong, but both of them felt very determined and preservation-driven in the games, with - of course - compassion for their beloveds. In this community, I feel as though they're both made very complacent and.. well.. stereotypically uke-ish.**

**I dunno, maybe I'm way off base. Anyhow, my interpretation of the two in a more mature age is a bit more bold, so I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Hey blondie! Are there any ears underneath that bird's nest on your hollow head? I said, collate and fax the 420K data to everyone in Finances NOW."

A pained expression splatters across my face. "Yes, Mr. Squall sir, my apologies! I'll get right on it!" I choke out from behind a forced, apologetic half-smile.

"That's Mr. Leonhart to you, you dingus. And don't use contractions here, it's improper."

I can feel a prominent vein threatening to burst near the edge of my forehead. "Of course, Mr. Leonhart. Thank you for the advice." I don't know how I managed to form that coherent of a reply while I simultaneously counted the number of "improper" contractions my supervisor used in the last 45 seconds.

"It wasn't advice, you spaz. It was an order." And one more.

Without waiting for me to dish out another blatantly artificial response, Squall Leonhart turned on his heel, toothpick dangling from his bottom lip, and disappeared around the bend of my cubicle.

Before I even had time to fully scrunch my nose in disgust, a bright red porcupine popped into my personal bubble. "Hey, knuckle head. Heard the boss-man givin' you another hard time. Listen, try not to take it so hard... I hear he's _much_ more of a douchehole to your spacey bro. Take that to mean that you are not only more apt at pleasing the head honcho, but also much sexier than Ven." The sickening sparkle coming from those freakish emerald eyes was dimmed as Axel fluttered his eyelids lower and lower as his speech turned from peppy to seductive. My nose finally had time to completely wrinkle,

"I don't know which disgusts me more: the fact that you smell like my brother's ball sack or that such a moronic come-on could sway Roxas so easily. Bottom line: I hate you, Axel." I spun around in my swivel chair, blew a stray clump of bangs out of my eyes, and continued mindlessly pounding away at my stale, 1998 keyboard.

"Aw, geez! You two need to start wearing respective colors or something, I can't take getting so close to you!" Axel exaggeratedly threw his arms up and draped them crisscross over one another, huffing as he finished his theatrics. "I mean seriously, have you two ever considered nametags?"

"Get the hell out of here."

No doubt rolling his eyes and scowling in my direction, Axel took his leave. No sooner had he stepped out of my box did my archaic desk phone ring.

"Seventh floor Data Management, this is Ventus speaking, how may I-"

"This is Rinoa in Accounting, and we're going to need the income totals for all Executive employees over the last 16 months before tomorrow's budgetary meeting – preferably in Microsoft Access format."

"CLICK"

My eyes glazed over in disbelief as the fossil in my hands polluted my cubicle with horrific, wailing beeps.

I gingerly set the phone back onto the base, staring blankly at the ancient monitor in front of me. I doubted this stupid thing even _had_ Microsoft Office, much less Access. All my work thus far had been done on some old-timey notepad program.

I let out a slow breath from my nostrils as I squeezed my eyes shut, letting my index fingers prod and rub away at my throbbing temples.

I think it's pretty obvious that I hate my job.

* * *

"If there are no other matters that need to be addressed tonight, I'd say we can call this one a night, folks."

The white noise of my coworkers erupting into small talk reverberated in my skull, and I could feel a migraine coming on full-force.

"Strife! Come see me, please." My manager beckoned for me from the head of the table. I gathered my papers and made my way hastily to his side. "You finish what I asked?" his deep chestnut eyes drilled into mine. It wasn't really a question so much as an exclamation that he expected to be true.

"Yes, sir. They have been sent out as you requested to the respective parties." Kill me now, just being around him was making my brain lash out against the confines of my head.

"Huh. Well alrighty then. Go home, or go wherever it is you go at night." He said this while he tidied his area and curtly left my presence. I swear, I just felt my eye twitch.

I sighed despondently but quietly, coming to terms with the fact that I still had to get started on that damned income project before I could even think about going home… or wherever I go at night.

Holding my ragged briefcase with one hand and massaging the area just above my right eyebrow with the other, I make my way towards the pristine glass doors that free me from one nightmare, only to lead me to another.

"Ven! Phew, I thought Axel may have been kidding when he told me you were up here. You know how his sense of humor is." An unkempt head of dirty blonde hair bounced into my line of vision then skidded to a stop in front of me. There, in all his sexual glory, stood my twin brother, Roxas. "You wanna hit up a bar or two on our way home? That is, if you aren't too tiiiired." The emphasis on the word 'tired' acted as a long, sterdy needle, piercing through my skin and stabbing all the way through my muddy brain.

"Sometimes, Rox, I genuinely think you have it out for me…" I furrowed my brow and cupped my own cheek, wallowing in the agony of my headache as Roxas just peeked at me with one eye, the other being closed in disinterest. "…and sometimes, I just have to remind myself that you're as big of an asshole as I am." I sighed once more.

"Oh, Ven, I knew you understood me." Roxas squinted his eyes in approval as he smirked my way. I'm pretty sure our use of sarcasm with one another is unparalleled by any other pair of humans in history. Honestly.

"Anyways, I won't be heading home until real late – you'll probably already be ass deep in Axel's tongue." Roxas grinned sincerely.

"Aww, why not, bro? Mean ol' Squall givin' you a buttload?"

I chuckled, genuinely for the first time all day. "I love you word choice, baby bro."

"For the last time, three minutes does _not _constitute as an age gap, you idiot." Roxas glared at me, putting on his best tough-guy routine.

"Whatever. And no, not Squall… not this time, anyways. Rinoa. The usual dump truck from her."

"Ah. Squall's bitch. Well, fear not, dearest brother. I'll be sure to have some ramen waiting for you when you get home." Roxas loosened up his expression and smiled softly at me. I returned the gesture, grateful that I still had one tether to maintaining my sanity.

"Thanks, bro."

Roxas slid his smile to the side, patted me on the shoulder, and took his leave. Letting out one final puff from my nose, I headed back to the seventh floor, eager to dig in to my brother's savory ramen and to burrow into my heavenly bed.

* * *

In the bottom right corner of my obsolete screen "2:21 AM" flashed out prominently, as though it were mocking me and rejoicing over my sorrow. I could feel the array of numerical values on the spreadsheet burning into my retinas, threatening to permanently stain my eyeballs. I only had four more months to go. I was twelve-sixteenths there… Err, six-tenths… Oh, great. Basic math was becoming arduous for me. I blinked, for what felt like the first time in hours, as my saucer-sized eyes soaked in the radiance of the monitor.

Popping my knuckles, I began pumping out row after row of incomprehensible symbols. At this point, Rinoa would be lucky if this thing was even in English.

As I paused to scan over the last few entries, a faint tapping echoed from down the deserted hallway. Reacting quickly, I spun around in my chair and perked my ears, straining to hear. Again, a distant pecking drifted towards me.

Now, I was always known as the more rational of the twins. I was able to keep a level head when Roxas would panic and act on instinct. Horror movies, dangerous situations, even day-to-day activities that proved to be exciting could weaken Roxas' logical side. Fortunately, I never had this problem.

…Except when it was a few hours before dawn, in a seemingly vacant business complex, with my senses being dulled from exhaustion.

The tapping – which soon turned to pounding – continued, and I shakily rose from my seat and inched towards the hall. The noise sounded like something dull striking glass, but not with enough intentional force to shatter it. That must mean… knocking?

As my imagination played out all the possibilities of causations for the beating sound, a sudden crash sounded somewhere to my right. The workspace surrounding the noise was filled with printers and copy machines, items I had no current use for, so I had left the lights off there. Of course.

The crash startled me, and my eyes bulged as I searched the darkness for any indicative clues. I was sure I heard a _thunk_ behind me, so I swiveled suddenly to check my surroundings. In my foggy, fearful state, I continued stepping cautiously backwards towards the original crash as I scanned the adjacent lobbies.

I was fairly certain there was nothing suspicious in that direction, and as I was readying to turn back to the opposite direction, I met with a malleable wall and bumped away from the object with a very unmanly, "EEEK".

The wall also let out a sharp cry as it ricocheted away from me, which is probably when I started doubting my categorization of the object in question.

I scurried off the floor, gathered courage I never knew existed, and raised my arms into some awkward sort of offensive stance. "Wait! I'm not a burglar or some shit like that! Relax, dude!"

A man, several inches taller and vastly more muscular than me, stepped from the shadows of the machines. His hair, unruly and disheveled, fell in groups over his tanned face, briefly wafting over his two metallic eyes. He was dressed in a black button-up dress shirt, dark jeans, and a distinctive pair of shiny black dress shoes. My confusion was obviously evident on my face, as he questioned my prolonged visual investigation. "Something on my face? …or, my crotch?" he spat indignantly. Huh. Just as I was beginning to suspect I'd stumbled upon a decent human being in this hellhole.

I frowned at his sudden crudeness, but definitely noted his impressive physique. "I was just curious about your wardrobe." I felt the need to explain myself, covering up for my uncharacteristic gawking, quite frankly.

"Tsk. How was I supposed to know what sort of crap you wear when you're meeting hotshots like you?" the stranger crossed his arms and relaxed his posture, giving me a once over. I've got to say, I don't think my khaki slacks and white polo really gave me the air of being a corporate "hotshot".

"Let me get this straight: you're here to meet with a manager of some sort? At… two in the morning?" I scrunched my eyes in skepticism.

"Hey, you want my whole life story, or what? Listen, can you just point me in the direction of Squall Leonhart's office already?" He added a hint of impatience to his tone that I really didn't care for.

"You listen to me, "dude": you just broke into a privately-owned building in the dead of night, with the intention of finding the head honcho's office, and you're expecting me to just play along?" I stepped slightly away from the guy, straightening my head and dropping my shoulders. He was definitely bigger than me, but I could still try to put up a fight.

"Hey, pint-sized, I'll tell you what," he smirked at my change in pose, "I'll just give this dumb thing to you and _you_ can hand it over to the big guy yourself." When he finished, he chucked the manila folder in his hands over to me, and I instinctively caught it without breaking eye contact. He chuckled, a deep, resonating chuckle, with a drop of amusement in his strange eyes. "Thanks a bunch, sweetheart." With that, the anonymous intruder proceeded past me and to the nearby stairwell. A distinctive crisp scent lingered seconds later.

Slowed once more by my fatigue I zoned out with the folder in my hands and my eyes glued to the space previously occupied by the enticing shadowy figure. Lazily, I sagged my head down to make sense of the letters jumbled on the front of the folder. Eventually, my sluggish mind decoded the gibberish: "Vanitas Leonhart – Data Management Internship Application".

Cocking my head very slightly to the side, I made sense of the words. Opening the cover, I scanned through the pages of tedious contract jargon. Finally, on the last page of the packet, the two words were stamped in bright green ink. These two words would prove to be the catalyst to my tragic downfall, the spark that set my casket ablaze.

"INTERNSHIP GRANTED"


	2. An Unwanted Guest

The events of yesterday – and, primarily, last night – have landed me a front row seat to my own execution.

Here, I sit, clenching and relaxing my knuckles, gritting my teeth, glaring mercilessly at a particularly prominent carpet fiber, as my supervisor barks incoherently. I'm fairly certain he's currently rambling on about the immaturity I've demonstrated – either that, or the lack of responsibility I've shown. One or the other.

I let out a forceful breath through my nose, attempting (and failing) to steady my nerves.

You see, Mr. Squall Leonhart, who I now know to be the father of the miscreant from last night, believes that I – in a fit of rebellion – shattered a company window with the sole intention of causing chaos and disorder. He will have none of this "intruder" business: as far as he's concerned, that is simply a figment of my pitiful imagination.

"Sir, as I have _tried_ to explain, that application folder I ha-"

"Can it, small fry. It's obvious you snatched that folder from my office when you were prying around like the delinquent you are. Honestly, I can't even remember what on earth compelled me to hire such a…" his speech dragged on, minimally fazed by my interruption.

Another sigh slipped through me.

"And ANOTHER thing, what makes you think I would even-"

"Yo, pops."

A gruff bass voice bubbled into the room. My eyes guided my head to the source of the disturbance, only to find the one face I loathed more than the gasbag chewing me out – Vanitas Leonhart.

"Ugh. For the last time, son, you need to address me more formerly if you're going to be doing business with me." Squall pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious contempt for his son's pitiful demeanor: his torn jeans tethered to his body by a large black belt with flame decals, the wrinkled short-sleeved black button-up with the top three buttons undone, hair only slightly less unkempt than it was last I saw him. He made quite an entrance.

"Sheesh, _Dad_, ease up. No one in here's judging us on professionality."

"That is not a word, Mr. Leonhart." I steadily interjected. My upper lip twitched in fury at his intrusion, his appearance, and his lack of consideration for my significance, quite frankly.

"Listen, kid: just because he's practically as inept and retarded as you, doesn't mean you have the right to give him lip. After all, he is your new apprentice."

At that moment, I was certain my eyes would jump out of their sockets with a resounding 'pop' and roll right over to Squall's tacky leather loafers. Immediately I knew that Leonhart Senior and the good Lord himself were conspiring to punish my soul, body, and mind all in one. I didn't have to stutter, didn't bother to gawk and question this awful decision – I simply sank a little lower into my seat and resigned to my damned fate.

Leonhart Junior, on the other hand, was fully prepared to do everything I had accepted not to.

"DAD, you can't be serious. Internships don't automatically involve shadowing some office dweeb around, watching him fix coffee and kiss ass." Vanitas crossed his arms, slouched, and furrowed his brow in the general direction of his father. I couldn't believe my ears: HE was upset about working with ME. As if there was something wrong with me!

"Suck it up, son. As much as I despise this shrimp, he knows his way around better than most at his level, and I'd simply love the chance to torture you both." Squall closed his eyes in contentment, most likely fantasizing about Vanitas and myself, going head-to-head, ripping each other's' throats out. "Besides, you're only here because we share DNA, remember that. But that – by no means – makes you exempt from the rules that every other pea-brained lackey in this joint has to follow." As he chastised Vanitas, he jutted his thumb out towards my seat. I took little notice of the insult, though, being too preoccupied boiling imaginary water insider of my head and gnashing my teeth as the steam flooded out of my ears.

"Tsk. Whatever you say, boss-man." Vanitas huffed in resolution. I stood up, keeping my expression blank and my eyes level with Squall's.

"I look forward to the opportunity to help guide Mr. Leonhart. Thank you, sir." I bowed respectively, feeling another lip twitch threatening to make an appearance.

Squall rolled his eyes dismissively. "Sheesh. Just get outta here. Show the brat how to fax or something – I don't care. Just don't cause any more problems for me, Strife." I brushed off the fact that he had finally addressed me somewhat personally with a microscopic chuckle. Then, I made my way to the exit, completely avoiding eye-contact with the "brat".

"Yo, blondie. Don't think about leaving me in the dust! After all, I _obviously_ can't do anything around here without you." I could just feel Vanitas smirking at my retreating figure. "Hey, don't ignore me!" he turned his whole body towards me.

Without halting or turning around, I replied, "Six contractions in five minutes: entirely improper, Mr. Leonhart. You really should begin working on that." And with that, I took my leave, assumedly with a very bemused and irritable Vanitas following soon after.

* * *

"I don't see the big deal."

My right eyebrow began to spasm in annoyance.

"It's just ink."

My lips sank downwards at the seams in a deep scowl.

"Would you say something you weirdo?"

I flashed my eyes up towards Vanitas, hovering over my crouching figure with his hands shoved as deep as possible into the shredded skinny jeans clinging to his pale legs. The white skin shone defiantly through the tears and splits, and for some reason it was all I could notice at the moment – he was almost as colorless as I was. Almost.

I closed my eyes and calmed myself for what felt to be the millionth time in the past 36 hours. "Each employee is allotted a specific amount of ink over a certain amount of time. Typically, for those my status or lower, two full cartridges are distributed and expected to last for a three-month cycle. And _that_ was my last cartridge until September."

"Huh." Vanitas slumped his shoulders slightly as he gazed absent-mindedly at the black puddle littering the carpet.

"Plus, the janitors only feel responsible to clean messes that they classify as 'reasonable'." I dropped my chin to my chest, imagining the pure, flaming hatred bursting from the head janitor's eyes as he happened upon the stain. Great. One more enemy in this hell-hole.

"I'm sure we can clean it. Or get someone else to. Relax." Vanitas pried one of his hands out of his pockets and splatted it atop my head, shaking it from side to side as he matted my hair. Shocked, I opened my eyes and stared down at my lap. Why is he touching me?!

I quickly jerked my neck to the left and successfully broke the contact. He looked down at me once more, boredom evident on his youthful face.

I ran a quick hand through my blonde nest in a half-assed attempt to fix whatever damage he'd caused and took one last sorrowful glance at the black gold pooling in front of the copy machine before I pulled myself back up onto my feet.

"Listen, Vanitas, accidents happen. That is a crucial part to being employed here: being able to accept your own faults and grow stronger from them." I avoided eye-contact as I dished out my pitiful life lesson, hardly believing the mantra myself.

Allow me to take a moment to explain how my precious ink ended up as a pathetic pond: Vanitas can't do anything.

Seriously.

Plain and simple.

He is absolutely useless!

All I asked of him was to put my cartridge in, check the ink and toner levels in our floor's machines and to report to me on them before I began copying a hefty stack of account requests. Somehow, within the five minutes I allocated for the trivial task, Vanitas managed to jam the slider on top of the primary machine, cancel someone else's order of 200 copies, spill ink all over the front controls, and – obviously – drop the entire cartridge on the floor, causing it to shatter and leak.

Honestly.. I haven't felt this hopeless in a long time.

"Thanks for the pep-talk, blondie." He grinned at me. Well, at least he's enjoying himself.

"I will inform Mr. Leonhart that this was my mistake, and that you helped to clean it up." I sighed, as I began dragging my feet across the stiff carpet as I headed back towards my cubicle.

"Woah woah woah, you'll what?" Vanitas hurried in front of me and blocked my path. Pausing to register the sudden blockade, I rolled my eyes up to meet his confused stare.

"I shall take the blunt of Mr. Leonhart's aggression that is sure to follow after an incident such as this." Evidently, my matter-of-fact message was startlingly confusing to the boy.

"You're going to cover for me?"

"Yes, Mr. Leonhart. I shall 'cover for you'."

"Wow, blondie… Thank you." Vanitas' previous grin returned; only, this one felt less douchey, more genuine. My eyes widened minimally, then quickly squinted again. I forced a cough out, looking away from the pale face once again.

"No need, Mr. Leonhart."

"Call me Vanitas, you nerd." He chuckled, eyes closing in comic delight, cheek bones visibly raising. Stealing another peek at the sight, I felt my own cheeks heat suddenly, certain that a faint pink would soon be tinting a good majority of my head. Letting out another artificial cough, I cringed at my own idiocy: this guy is my enemy! He is here to ruin my life, and I am to do the same to his. He is just another thing put on this earth to make me hate life – after all, misery loves company. Especially if that company is just attractive enough to make me hesitant in my quest to wallow in despair.

All my mental ramblings lasted longer than I suspected, and soon Vanitas was looking at me impatiently, obviously awaiting a proper revision to my previous statements.

Clearing my throat, I edited my remark: "No need to thank me, Vanitas."

"Well, either way, thanks again, Ventus." Vanitas smirked once more, turning and beginning to head to the cubicle. "Oh, and don't think that that blush went unnoticed." He looked over his shoulder and threw a devilish wink at me before continuing on his way.

I was proud of myself for keeping my composure when Squall pitched the curveball of my new subordinate at me, but now, under the sexual tension and romantic pressure I was being bombarded with, my resolution cracked.

My face heated even further, a sweet magenta staining the skin beneath my saucer eyes.

All from one smile? One chuckle? One wink!?

My new intern is going to be the death of me.

* * *

**Sorry for the late update! Not a whole lot of action in the VanVen community, I understand.**

**But I would like to thank those who have already followed and reviewed! I appreciate the feedback more than you know.**

**This chapter was not too long at all, mostly because it's extremely difficult for me to write filler chapters like this.. Yes, I consider this filler. I just want to get right into the goods! The sweet, sultry goods!**

**Unfortunately, I wanted this one to grow at a nice pace. Too many good stories fall short of greatness because of impatience. **

**With that said, feel free to expect much more from the next chapter, because it is time to dive into the real plot!**

**Look forward to another update within the month. :)**


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